NaPoWriMo April Month of Poetry Apr 8

At end of day to the woods I went walking
Where ancient beings forced to stay unable to return
With corner turned in the shadows feel them lurking
Who envy you who walks with shining light they yearn


Hear the wind moaning or some creature growling
From whence and what is this sound displaced
High upon the hill Ghostly Green Goblin riding
Looks down at me who invades his space

But no time for pause as cursed to chase
Fleeting shadows with no reason his life did kill
With one last look, Goblin turns to woods in haste
Forever pursuing unseen tormentor over hill

All rights reserved  © Scott Sedman Copywrite 2013


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